Explore "Unheard" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All things are wrought of melody, / Unheard, yet full of speaking spells; / Within the rock, within the tree, / A soul of music dwells.
A mute symphonic sense that thrills / The silent frame of mortal things; / Its heart beats in the ancient hills, / In every flower sings.
To harmony all growth is set -- / Each seed is but a music mote, / From which each plant, each violet, / Evolves its purple note.
Compact of melody, the rose / Woos the soft wind with strain on strain / Of crimson; and the lily blows / Its white bars to the rain.
The trees are paeans; and the grass / One long green fugue beneath the sun -- / Song is their life; and all shall pass, / Shall cease, when song is done.